


Me Time

by Bluesummers



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Eliot Waugh, Canon Gay Character, Depression, Gay Sex, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Loneliness, M/M, One Shot, Oral Fixation, PWP, Parallel Universes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, Sort Of, Submission, Top Eliot Waugh, Twincest, Two Eliots, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 16:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14288523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluesummers/pseuds/Bluesummers
Summary: When one Eliot meets another Eliot, will they discuss the endless possibilities of multiple universes, or will they fuck?





	Me Time

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, that's right, TV Eliot fucks Books Eliot. Have fun everyone!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Magicians.

 

 

Eliot stumbled into the bedroom and onto a chair, noisily knocking a few things over on his way. The door closed shut behind him with what felt like a deafening explosion. He let out a sigh and put his throbbing head in his hands, forcing himself to breathe steadily.

Fuck. _It was supposed to make him feel_ better. It was supposed to make him feel _less lonely_ , whatever the fuck that meant. Like there was anything in the world that could do either of those things.

Oh, he was going to turn Lovelady into a frog. Or at least, he was going to threaten to, and make it believable enough to make the man wet himself.

Not that Eliot had ever believed the potion was the real thing. Everything Lovelady sold was bogus. That's why he had kept the bottle under his bed for two whole months before actually opening it. But tonight he'd felt so lost and so desperate and so completely sick of himself, he figured at the very least, it might get him drunk.

Reality wasn't that kind. The violet liquid may have looked like wine, but it was syrupy and completely tasteless, except for a bitter aftertaste, and did nothing to dull the senses. If anything, it made everything intensify.

The others' constant prattling became ear-piercing, and every time someone laughed it was like Eliot's forehead got hit with a hammer. Suddenly he couldn't stand being around them anymore. He couldn't even stand being with himself. Everything _there_ was amplified, too. Every bitter remark he'd made, every attempted quip, every roll of his eyes. _Pathetic_. It felt like he has never hated everything about himself as much as he did tonight. So he blurted out something about going for a smoke, but instead found himself tottering up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He just needed to sleep it off.

"Um, what are you doing in my room?"

Eliot looked up to where the voice had come from. A young man was standing next to the bed. He was lavishly garbed, or at least had been, until some wild night had made his clothes loosen and crease. He was tall and lean, with rich dark curls and an air of easy confidence. And he was unfamiliar – an intruder in their house.

As Eliot was preparing a defense spell behind his back, his second though was: _I hope this has nothing to do with the Beast_. His first thought, however, was: _Damn, I should get a waistcoat_.

"If you're with the Beast," the young man said, and Eliot almost jumped by how he seemed to read his mind, "then you're wasting your time." He raised an empty wine glass. "See? I'm slowly killing myself all on my own." And then he laughed. He had a deep, husky voice.

Eliot stared at him suspiciously.

"Why would the Beast want to kill _you_?"

As he spoke, Eliot took a better look around, and realized that while this was _a_ bedroom, it was not the _cottage_ bedroom. In fact, he's never seen any room in the cottage – or in Brakebills, for that matter – which looked like this.

The other man simply shrugged in response and took a sip from his glass, before remembering it was empty.

Eliot did his best to stand up again, steadily, and warily crept toward the door. The whole situation was extremely dubious. He was somehow in a foreign room with a stranger. A _complete_ stranger. The person before him was one of the hottest guys in Brakebills, except, Eliot knew every hot guy in Brakebills, and this man wasn't one of them.

As quietly as he possible could, Eliot cracked open the door and peeked outside. On the other side was his familiar cottage. The hall, the stairs, everything was completely normal. He could even hear Janet's wild laughter from downstairs. He should just step back outside, close the door, and pretend none of this ever happened.

He glimpsed again at the other man, who was looking down a drained wine bottle, and decided that he was _too_ good looking. Like, in a way that people in real life rarely are. If this was a trap, it worked perfectly. Eliot was suddenly reluctant to dash out and leave this attractive man in an empty bedroom all by himself.

"Who are you, anyway, King Hot of Hotland?" Eliot sullenly murmured to himself.

The other was still staring at the bottle as he replied, "Feel free to call me that, if you'd like, though 'Eliot' will do just fine."

Eliot froze.

_Is this just a coincidence?_

He studied the young man, longer this time, and considered.

He recognized the way the other guy was using dry wit and false confidence to hide his pain. He definitely recognized the desperate drinking. He even thought the dregs in that empty glass looked very much like the purple beverage he himself had consumed that evening. More than anything, though, it was the other's flawless sense of style which raised Eliot's suspicion. He decided to try something out.

"I'm your guest, you know," he said in his most bored tone, "yet you haven't offered me any of that wine of yours. Have you no manners? "He retraced his steps to casually lean against the chair." Were you born on a farm or something?"

The other's gasp was instant. He looked up at Eliot with wide eyes. _Holy fuck._

"How did you know that…?" The other man stared, almost terrified. "What gave me away? What am I doing wrong? Tell me."

Eliot moved even closer.

"Takes one to know one," he admitted, and reached out his hand. "I'm Eliot."

The other Eliot blinked.

"Really?"

Eliot nodded.

"I haven't seen you around…" the other man said, looking down at his empty glass with sudden realization, studying the last drops of enchanted beverage within. "Then, we're both Eliots," he resumed, slowly, "and we're both from a farm."

"And," Eliot added, "We're both gay."

"Obviously," they said together.

Only then the tall man took Eliot's reached hand in his and gave it a slow shake. Then he lowered their hands, but never quite let go. Eliot was acutely aware of that fact, though he wasn't sure whether it was alarm or thrill that it sparked in his chest.

"We're clearly not the same person," the other Eliot pointed out.

"This doesn't look like a parallel universe thing, either."

"Must be magic, then." He had a cute smile. "I drank this… thing, this potion… it was supposed to make me–"

"I know." Eliot cut him off. "I drank it too."

"So we're like, what, different versions of ourselves?" He suddenly stared at Eliot with shock on his face. "Are you… _younger_ than me?!"

At that, Eliot had to give a little smile, which he immediately wiped off. He looked terrible when smiling.

The other man's palm was warm against his own, its skin soft and tempting. Eliot's thumb gave the faintest of brushes against the other's skin, almost an accident, almost nonexistent.

The other Eliot picked up on that, judging by his pleased smirk, but his eyes were dark and sad, and looking right into Eliot's own. Their gazes locked.

Every tiny thing suddenly felt massive. The other's stroke against the back of Eliot's hand. Eliot swallowing. The young man's narrowing eyes. Eliot's tongue swiftly moving over his lip. He fought against the impulse to lower his eyes and look away. Instead, he lifted his chin up.

Never breaking eye contact, the other man brought his free hand up to rest against Eliot's face, rubbing the ball of his thumb against his cheek.

"So tell me, how did we get _this_? Did you toy with some forbidden spells?"

Eliot didn't have to ask what the older guy was referring to, he knew he was asking about his deformed jaw.

"I was born like that." Eliot was offended at every mention of his oddity, but couldn't bring himself to move the other's hand away. "See? You don't have it that bad."

The hand slowly stroked along Eliot's jaw, until it brushed against his twisted lip.

"And how do we… _manage_ … like that?"

Eliot almost smiled.

"Better than anyone you've ever met." They were still staring into each other's eyes. Their previous suspicion turned to curiosity, which was quickly turning to a 'who's got a better _I wanna fuck you_ look' competition. The air was hot around them, almost humming. Now Eliot deliberately grinned, revealing his bent teeth. "And how do we… _manage_ … with that tiny mouth of yours?"

This time, the other Eliot wasn't insulted. Instead, his smile widened.

"Oh, you're cheeky. Someone needs to teach you some manners."

_Oh god._

The young man took a step forward. Eliot didn't back up. Their chests contacted. The other's finger was still resting against his lip. He kept advancing. Eliot had to move now, the man's heat and weight forcing him backward, until his back touched the wall, or the closet, he wasn't sure. Even then the other kept pushing, pressing their bodies closer and closer. He leaned in. Eliot sucked in air in anticipation.

The older boy froze.

Eliot stood there, blinking.

"Are we allowed to do that?" the other man whispered even as he inclined closer.

"A question I've never asked in my life," Eliot breathed back, still attempting to lend some sort of indifference to his tone.

The other Eliot didn't respond, just lingered a moment longer, then pushed his thumb between Eliot's lips, forcing his mouth open as he moved his own lips to Eliot's ear, licking and softly biting. Eliot instinctively sucked on the fingertip in his mouth, desperate for more, already closing his eyes and imagining what it would feel like to have his lips engulfed around the other man's cock. His ear was a delicious mess of warmth and wetness. The finger delved deeper, and Eliot let his mouth fall open to accept the invasion. He made a needy sound, not quite a moan. The other chuckled in his ear. Eliot sucked harder.

Then the finger pulled back and out of his mouth, replaced by hot lips and a hungry tongue. Eliot greedily reciprocated, opening his mouth even wider and allowing the young man to explore everything and everywhere he wished, sucking him in. Their long noses bumped when they kissed, and they both stopped to let out a gaspy laugh. The other's hand moved from Eliot's cheek to the back of his head, while another hand crept into his shirt and grabbed his waist. Eliot's hands went up. The two of them grasped at each other's hair, fisting and tugging, adding teeth and bites to their kissing. Now Eliot moaned deeply into the kiss. Again. And again. And again.

He was used to everyone being shorter than him, but the man savaging his mouth was just as tall as he was, and wider framed, and Eliot was melting into the kiss and into those arms and into _him_. He was quickly losing himself. Eliot's hands let go of the other's lush curls, sinking lower and lower, until they clang helplessly to his silky shirt. The older boy's heart was pounding beneath his fingers.

Eliot's hands moved lower still, undoing the first buttons of the young man's waistcoat.

"No, no, you don't get to decide here," the other Eliot grabbed his wrists, then kissed the tip of his nose, "my submissive little doppelganger."

His deep voice had a naturally commanding tone, and Eliot responded despite himself, gasping and growing achingly hard.

The warm mouth left his to kiss down his neck and suck roughly at its base. Hands were eagerly stroking up and down his sides beneath his shirt, reaching higher and higher every time, feeling up his ribs and chest and lingering whenever they came back down to his hipbones. Men just loved his slim waist, he knew. He could use that, perhaps, to regain some control. He just wanted to touch. Just a little. Just needed to feel the other's body…

The next time the other man's hands brushed his waist, Eliot gave a little roll of his hips. The older boy was so close, it didn't take much. Their erections brushed, stiff and ready beneath their pants. _Ohh_.

The other Eliot pulled back, staring down at him silently for a long moment. "Hmm. Bad boy."

"Sorry," Eliot whimpered helplessly before he could stop himself.

Long fingers tightened around his hipbones, digging in, as the other man grabbed Eliot's waist with both hands and pulled it roughly against him, rubbing their clothed hard cocks together. Eliot moaned and squirmed, the unceasing friction too little and too much at the same time.

"Hurry…" he found himself begging, not even sure what he was begging for. His hands meekly fell to his sides, fisting at nothing. "Hurry…"

Slowly, the hands moved from his hips to the bottom of his shirt, undoing its buttons. Eliot faintly heard himself gasping "take it off… hurry… take it off…" His voice was desperate.

"Shh. I want to tear _you_ up, not your lovely button down." But even as he said it, his fingers seemed to be going faster.

The other man's stiff erection was still rubbing against his own, making Eliot's asshole tingle and his mouth water with the desire to be shoved into. Having that hardness inside him became everything. His entire world. His only thought.

"I want… oh… I want…"

"I know what you want."

Eliot closed his eyes, feeling the cold air sneaking onto his skin as his shirt was removed, his torso covered instead by lusty licks and nibbles and gropes. Hands were rubbing and pinching his nipples, soon joined by teeth and tongue. Shudders consumed his body. A pleading groan left his lips and he surrendered, letting his head fall back and allowing the other man to dominate him completely, exploring his body however he wanted.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders. The other man disconnected his mouth from Eliot's skin and rose, turning them around and switching their positions. Suddenly standing on his own, Eliot almost lost his balance. He stared down at the older boy, disoriented and confused.

The other Eliot brushed his sweaty hair back. "What are you waiting for? You can suck me now."

Eliot gratefully sank to his knees.

He pressed his head into the covered groin in front of him, feeling its stiffness and warmth against his face. His hands went to the back of the other man's thighs, just below his ass, hugging him closer. Eliot's mouth opened and his tongue came out to lick the hardness through the fabric. It was so nice and cozy there, but he wanted more.

He forced himself to pull away, and watched hypnotized as his own fingers came to the front of the other's pants, unbuttoning, then unzipping, then pulling the pants down. The underwear beneath them soon followed, only revealing the tip at first, trapped between fabric and skin. Eliot's lips were on it, French kissing the pink dripping head like a lover. He pulled the underwear lower, and the entire cock sprang out, flushed and heavy.

Saliva filled his mouth. His eyes were fixed on the other's erection as he kneeled before it. This cock was everything Eliot had hoped for and more, so thick he doubted even he could fit everything into his mouth. He struggled to stop himself again, to take a moment and just look at it, enjoy the sight before him. He couldn't wait long.

He took it between his lips again, licking and sucking, licking and sucking. Slowly. He had to do it slowly. It was so tempting to take it all in, to rush things. Instead he licked and sucked, licked and sucked, taking it slightly deeper into him every time.

Oh, it felt so good in his mouth. He loved everything about it. The trembling thighs beneath his fingers. The savory taste. The sharp smell of sweat. The soft texture around incredible firmness. Scrotum hot and heavy when he palmed it. The hair against his nose as he finally took the cock all the way in. He loved the strain, the growing pain in his jaw and knees. He loved the reactions he elicited, the gasps and groans and jerks coming from above him. He loved the moment he looked up and met the other's eyes, hooded and begging, while his cock was shoved down his throat. It was the perfect act. The perfect balance between humiliation and power, between dominating and being dominated.

His own cock was stiff and pleading. Uncomfortable wetness accumulated in his underwear. He sucked harder, pleading for it, desperate for it. And then there was this slight movement, this familiar indication, and Eliot shut his eyes and swallowed the streams of hot fluid gushing into his mouth.

He kept on sucking and sucking, eager for every drop, until the other man gently pulled on his hair and mumbled something. Even then, as the other's member turned softer against his tongue, he was reluctant to let go of his prize. The older boy tugged on his hair again, applying more force, until he pulled Eliot away and his cock came out of his mouth.

Eliot gazed up, blurry eyed and hot faced. The man staring down at him was panting, all spent. Cum and saliva trickled down Eliot's chin, and the other Eliot wiped them away.

"You _are_ good."

Eliot grinned. "Best you've ever had?"

The other man puffed. "Alright, fine. But only because I can't blow myself."

"I think you kind of just did…"

The older boy laughed. They smiled at each other.

"Now," the other man was still smirking, "get on the bed."

Eliot scrambled to his feet and onto the bed, in front of the young man. More slowly, he leaned back on his elbows.

The other Eliot looked down pointedly at Eliot's shoes. He didn't let the fact that his pants were down to his knees stop him from saying in a domineering tone, "Take these off."

Eliot kicked off his shoes.

"And your pants. I want you to prepare yourself."

Eliot unbuttoned his pants and took his time sliding them off his legs, making sure the other noticed just how long and slim they were.

"I don't really need preparation," he let him know.

"Neither do I," the older boy answered, and Eliot could see that it was true. His cock was already hardening again.

Eliot's pants dropped to the floor. He shivered, seeing his own bare body laid out for the other man to inspect. He was on display, and a glance at the older boy's member showed him he liked what he saw. Eliot's nipples were hard and sensitive. He parted his legs and reached between them, sliding his hand beneath his underwear and prodding his opening with a finger. _Mmm_ …

An annoyed expression contorted the other's handsome features. Eliot caught it, knowing he realized his mistake. Eliot did everything he was told, but the other man forgot to tell him to take off his underwear. Eliot smirked.

"Something wrong?" he asked innocently.

Two more fingers joined the first, working and pumping, spreading him open. But all the other Eliot could see were their shapes, moving behind the material of his underwear, concealed from him. Eliot let out a soft moan, teasing him further.

The other man was still frowning as he began to peel off his clothes. He stepped out of his pants and underwear and took a step closer, now shedding off his waistcoat and shirt. Despite his severe expression, his hard on was dripping and ready. He leaned over Eliot and reached down, running the soft tips of his fingers down his chest and stomach. He hooked Eliot's underwear and pulled down, finally letting him out.

"Ahh!"

Eliot was grabbed and turned over, thrown down on the soft bed. His aching cock was trapped between his stomach and the sheet, wet and slippery and staining them with precum.

"Now, about those manners you so obviously lack…" A hand slapped Eliot's ass. He melted like hot butter against the bed. "Ask me nicely."

"Please…" The taste of cum was still on his tongue.

"I don't know. You _have_ been pretty bad."

The hand came down on his ass again, on the same spot.

"Oh! Please… please…"

The other cheek this time, harder. Then hands rubbed his ass and spread it open. Something hot pressed against his hole.

"Ahhhh!" His voice was pitiful and whiny. He heard the man behind him chuckle at his desperation, but Eliot only spread his legs wider and tilted his hips up into the touch. "Please! Please! I'm sorry! Please fuck me, Eliot, Please! Ahh! Ple–"

Something was shoved into his mouth, and his pleadings turned to muffled, senseless sounds. It was soft, some sort of fabric… Eliot shuddered when he realized it was his own underwear between his teeth.

He could just take it out. The other man left his hands and wrists completely unrestrained. But he didn't dare. Instead his fingers tangled in the sheets and held onto them tightly.

The hot tip against his opening pushed forward, stretching his hole. Once the head was in, strong hands grabbed his hips and the cock was slammed into him.

Eliot moaned deeply. The man fucking him did not stop. He fucked him fast, again and again. Eliot's moans turned louder and louder. Warm pleasure was spreading from his ass to his entire body, then coiling back again in his core, stronger. He was screaming through the underwear in his mouth. His throat was dry, burning. He didn't know if everyone could hear him in his world or in the other's world or in both, but he didn't care.

He was so full, so stuffed with the other man's cock every time he drove into him. He tried to breathe deeply through his nose and relax his muscles, but it was just so big and good and all he could do was squirm around it and hold his breath.

The other man moved faster and farther into him, stretching him and reaching so deep. Eliot bit down on his underwear. Drool was flowing from his mouth, down his twisted lip and soaking the fabric beneath his cheek.

Half-thoughts of "so good" and "fuck" and "oh God right there" were going through his head, but with the underwear in his mouth it all came out as stifled groans. He let everything go.

"Mmph! Mmph! _Mmmmpphh_!"

And then all sounds faded. The world disappeared. All sensations were gone except for the consuming pleasure in his groin, deep inside, gripping his ass and cock, tighter and tighter, driving him mad with anticipation… and the bliss when it all exploded to every nerve in his body, blinding him.

The sheet beneath Eliot's face was still wet when he could think again. He didn't remember what happened after he came.

The older boy was lying beside him, smiling.

"You were so loud, I couldn't even hear myself."

"Lend me a smoke."

The other Eliot turned to reach for his nightstand and grab a cigarette. Eliot didn't fail to notice there was also a lighter there, which the man didn't fetch. Eliot accepted the cigarette and lit it up with magic, pulling on it.

"There's some tissue too, if you want, but…" the other man traced a finger over Eliot's lips, stomach, and butt, "I kinda like you dirty." His fingers then moved to softly brush up and down Eliot's arm. He was probably trying to make Eliot react, but Eliot wasn't very good at what came after sex, and wasn't sure what to say.

Instead, he offered him the cigarette, and they smoked together silently for a while.

"So, are we going to, like, talk about this?" The other man tried.

Eliot didn't really have much to say about that either, but it was something.

"How many of us do you think there are?"

He decided to try that 'after sex' thing too, and rubbed their feet together beneath the blanket.

The older boy put out the smoke, wrapped his arm around Eliot, and pulled him close.

"You've had a rough life."

Eliot knew it wasn't a question. "Yes."

"Your parents?"

"Everyone."

The hand rubbed his shoulder.

"I'm gonna kill them."

Eliot smiled. "Really? What will you do?"

"Hit them over with a bus, obviously."

"Obviously."

The other man kissed his forehead. He was obviously better at showing affection.

"Hey, I never say that, to myself least of all, but…"

"What?"

"You're wonderful."

Eliot turned to look at him. It was a bit much for him, but he couldn't just say nothing after that. He leaned closer and brushed their lips together, softly, then took the other's hand in his.

"You too."

It was actually nice, cuddling. With this man, at least. Eliot felt good in his arms. But he knew it couldn't last. He closed his eyes, listening to the other's breathings, and allowed himself these last moments of content. Then he got out of the bed.

"I should go back," he said as he picked up his scattered clothes and put them back on, "it might have been six years out there or something."

"Be careful with the smoking. And all the drinking."

"That's unlikely."

The older boy was still lying naked in bed, watching Eliot as he got dressed.

"Think we'll remember any of it?" He asked, and Eliot tried to etch his beautiful voice into his memory.

"Oh, don't worry," Eliot gave him a wide smile, baring his teeth, "I'm taking a souvenir."

And with that, he picked up the other's discarded waistcoat from the floor, stepped outside the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

 

***

 

Eliot threw off the covers, jumped out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown and ran to the door. He flung it open with half a smile on his face, and came face to face with Margo.

She gave him a once over and looked up at him with a knowing smile.

"Who is he? Is he cute?"

He failed to stop her from walking right past him and into the bedroom. Clothes were all over the floor, and the bed was a mess. It must have reeked of sex, too.

"It's not Q again, is it?"

Margo looked all around the room, but it was completely empty, and only his clothes were there. She turned to him, smile widening.

"Oh, it's alright, I get it. After all, we all need some 'me time' every now and then."

 

 


End file.
